The Green Devils
by Douche Worthington
Summary: Elite German fallschirmjäger Johaan and his squad, torn from the midst of the glorious struggle, now find themselves in a strange new land of bloody evolution.
1. Introductions are in order

Disclaimer: I don't own shit, I live in a cardboard box, in fact.

"What makes a regiment of soldiers a more noble object of view than the same mass of mob? Their arms, their dresses, their banners, and the art and artificial symmetry of their position and movements." -George Gordon Byron

It was on the eve of the 6th day of July, in the year 1944, when a few unfortunate souls of no particular importance awoke to a very peculiar leafy canopy.

It was a blackened, ominous monstrosity, whose over reaching boughs and dense patches obscured all but the faintest traces of morning's light which poured through the smallest crevices and dotted the canopy like stars on a clear night. Visible rays spilt through in a golden haze and cast dark silhouettes of the leaves on the forest floor, but these offered only meager lighting. Dense growths of trees lay in all directions, firm and unyielding, a veritable jumble of vegetation. Between these trees, lay deep recesses of pitch black void, utterly impenetrable by the naked eye.

It was deep within the bowels of this dim overgrowth that, at present, several disgruntled members of Germany's mighty military machine had found themselves stranded.

In total, the motley crew consisted of 14 of Germany's estranged soldiers. Of these 14, only 10 in total bore the distinctive markings of the luftwaffes revered fallschirmjäger corp; the 6th regiment of the 2nd parachute division, precisely. Together, they formed a slightly dysfunctional but operable squad under the command of one Johaan Adler. Of the remaining four, the crew of a mobile flak 38; strays that had accompanied Johaans squad the night before, accounted for three. Somewhere in the distance, some very filthy verbal detritus was strewn about in the wind, the product of these three, now, very angry men who lay, with the unfortunate task of removing some one thousand pounds of gun, from the depths of some queer ditch or another.

The last man unaccounted for, a flamethrower operator of average height and flinty disposition, stood rather awkwardly outside the huddle of Johaans paratroopers. The name was Krieg, if Johaan remembered correctly, the introductions though, were rather curt and somewhat overshadowed by the groups most peculiar predicament.

"It would seem", said Johaan, turning the map over for what must've been the sixth time since he had unfolded the damnable thing,"that we are lost- utterly lost", he added at that.

Around him, the heads of several helmeted soldiers bobbed up and down in agreement, they of course, had come to the same conclusion several hours ago but opted not to voice this sentiment aloud, lest they receive a sharp whack on the head and a sound lecturing on their "gratuitous negativity".

Wilhelm, Johaan assistant squad leader, stood vigilant as ever, ready to administer both these things at a moments notice, should the need arise. He was a big man, towering a solid 6 foot 4 inches, tallest of the present group, and heavily muscled, not alarmingly, but considerable nonetheless. A quiet man, but firm of voice when he spoke, and easily heard, in part because when he spoke no one else dared speak over him. He commanded great respect amongst the men, perhaps even more so than Johaan himself for Johaan had never known the men to stand straighter, salute more sharply than when Wilhelms piercing gaze swept over them. Yes, there was great respect to behold in Wilhelm's presence, even fear perhaps, but Johaan knew he was not a leader, never had the capacity for making difficult decisions, and so each day he would take his spot dutifully at Johaans side, nothing more. nothing less.

For the longest time there was silence amongst the soldiers, as they stood, idly watching as Johaan rubbed his temple furiously, a vain attempt to alleviate his growing head ache.

"And I suppose", he said, splitting the silence at last,"that you have nothing to say on the matter?". He spit out these words particularly vehemently, as though he were addressing someone he generally didn't care to know. In this case it wasn't all too far from the truth.

The "you" in this case was a rather shifty man named Heinrich, whom Johaan knew had been assigned to watch duty the previous night. In hind sight, he knew he was a fool to do so, past experiences had shown him that Heinrichs record in this respect was remarkably spotty. In hind sight, Johaan also knew he was a fool to ask about it.

"Well you see", began Heinrich with a nervous grin, "it all began when...",

Now, Heinrich was a bit of a peculiar case in Johaans account. He was the youngest of the group, with a naturally cheery demeanor, this at once, put him at odds, at least outwardly, with the general undercurrent of war time. His countenance was ever constantly a glaringly bright thing which, coupled with his current occupation, and general belligerent attitude towards all things responsibility-wise did nothing to stem the belief of his superiors that he was in reality nothing but a joke. It was miraculous then, that during his time under Johaans command he had done a surprisingly good job at not getting shot. During this time Johaan had learned two important things: the first that, as many believed, Heinrich was far from the model of an outstanding soldier. The second was that Heinrich, despite all his peculiarities, was a disgustingly deadly shot.

By now, Heinrich who was nearing the end of his little narrative, had sprouted a rather smug grin, the kind which he knew infuriated Johaan to no end, "... aye, he was a most peculiar little fellow, very short, likely a gnome of some sort, and as I sat there he bent over, trousers discarded, and made as if to shit on my lap". "So you see", finished Heinrich with a flourish,"having endured no small amount of trials which would have cowed even the strongest of men, I upon returning to my post could do nothing more than fall, heavily unconscious". At that, several muffled snickers broke out amongst the men, who had evidently (and like many of the ladies), found Heinrich's tale of gross misconduct to be in exceedingly good humor. These of course were stamped out quickly by Wilhelm's icy gaze. Johaan for the most part, could do nothing more than marvel at how dearly tempted he was to strangle Heinrich right then and there. His professionalism of course, would never allow that, and he crushed that thought immediately, settling instead on what he hoped would be a rousing speech.

"I will say this clearly jäger... We are in a most perilous situation at the moment. Out there, amidst the trees may lie any multitude of guerrilla or allied forces. We are lost, without bearing and as such are easy targets for any danger which may lie in ambush". The men grew silent at this and Johaan took it as his cue to continue. "Our first order of business, and at present the most critical, shall be to link up with the rest of 6th regiment with utmost haste. It would therefor be in our best interests to gain, at least the barest of ideas concerning our whereabouts. One of these trees I think, shall serve that function nicely". Their was a collective silence amongst the squad, upon hearing that, and at once, every man's eyes were upon that ever so distant ceiling of dark leafy black, appearing to them, in that moment, as distant as the night sky. What trees they were!, whose peaks towered no less than 200 feet high, well above the plain of ordinary men. Who amongst us, they thought, could conquer such beasts, such titans as these, and stand atop their shoulders, triumphant!

Johaan then turned to Heinrich who's face had turned a ghastly white at the implication.

"Ah, Heinrich, just the man for the job", he said, face losing its heroic mould for the moment, and breaking instead into one of those rarest of smiles. "The model of male athleticism I'm sure, now, up you go chap, and be quick with it now, the fate of the squad rests in your hands".

Heinrich, now stuttering in supremely awkward fashion, and being dragged all the while by his entirely unsympathetic fellow paratroopers to the tallest tree around, could do nothing but protest feebly, as he was coaxed up to the lowest boughs of the tree. There, clinging tightly to a branch he squawked out shakily, "In all my life, sir, I have never climbed a single tree!".

Johaan now looking on in content called out cheerily, "Well than first times for everything, I suppose, an enjoyable experience I'm sure!". He then turned to face the rest of the squad, countenance now settled back into its familiar stony visage, and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"The rest of you, go take a break, but",- and he said this more to Wilhelm than anyone else, "leave one man on watch, armed".

It was now several hours into the day. The sun, high in the sky and shining brilliantly, lit the forest a captivating emerald hue. There was now a strange beauty to the forest, an almost surreal sensation, as if it were a bit too vivid, too fantastical, like a-

like a fairy tale, mused Johaan as he took a draught of crisp clean air. It was intoxicating, wholly untainted by the scent of war: blood, decay and smoke. Still, there was something unnerving, about the forest which Johaan couldn't quite put a word on. With a swift tugging motion he removed the distinctive bowl shaped form of the Luftwaffes modified stahlhelm from his head. Even in the cool climate that the forest provided, a single bead of sweat had begun to trickle down his forehead. The hard lines of his face set into a contemptuous grimace, he was a rational man by nature, not prone to such childish superstitions!

Rising suddenly, he drew to his full height of 5 foot 11 inches, a decent height, and atop his elevated rocky perch he could keep track of the whole motley group. The artillery crew, having finally liberated their charge from that queer ditch, sat exhausted, leaning against the massive gun and smoking. It was somewhat of a rare sight amongst men of the Wehrmacht nowadays. The practice was, he knew, looked on with disdain by the Fuhrer himself, and the subsequent anti tobacco campaign run by their "glorious" national socialist leadership (and he used the term scathingly), had caused rations to dwindle dramatically amongst military men.

For the most part, both jäger and artillery man gave Krieg as wide a berth as they could. There were rumors afloat that most every fighting man had heard of, Johaan included. These were tales of massive fiery explosions which by allied bullet, or structural malfunction had consumed both the unfortunate flamethrower operators whose fuel tanks they had erupted from, as well as the several unsuspecting men standing near them at the time, and though a great deal of these were most certainly baseless, there was a general tendency amongst soldiers to avoid explosions when they could help it. Krieg, however, didn't seem to mind all too much, for he was a solitary man at heart, and seemed content to fiddle with the straps of his flamethrower.

Johaan reclined back now, head resting on interlaced hands to make full use of the gentle day.

Sadly, it was not to last, for no sooner than had the lids of Johaans eyes shut, was a rustling of foliage heard, followed by a grunt and a loud thump. Heinrich it seemed, had returned from the heavens, and in quite a state better then when he had set off too, as he now held himself with barely concealed excitement.

Quickly, he sprang to his feet, and upon spotting Johaan, sprinted vigorously towards him, shouting all the while, excited cries of "Sir! Sir!". He then hunched over, slightly red faced and out of breath before gasping out, "do you know sir- that I have just recently seen the most fascinating thing."

"Oh?, do tell", said Johaan, very obviously peeved at his subordinates flippant behavior (and return).

"Aye, i saw it in the distance, a massive structure, white and gleaming, like no structure Ive ever seen before", and a pause, most likely for dramatic effect before he continued, "it was a castle sir, it must've been".

At this, Johaan darted to his feet, all traces of drowsiness left by the comfort of the sun and breeze were gone. This was an unexpected turn of events to which he was harshly reminded of the groups current plight, that is, as he had put it earlier, utterly lost. He paced tirelessly now, back and forth, hands behind his back, pondering over Heinrich's report.

"A castle?"

"Yes"

"And no towns, no cities?"

A moment of deliberation and then, "no".

From the moment he had awoken, Johaan had known this peculiar situation to be a ludicrous affair, 14 men, overnight, moved without their notice from a city in france to some godforsaken forest in who knows where, and now all chances of a reasonable explanation for the squads mysterious dislocation, which before had been slim, were now down the drain and out of sight completely.

He called an assembly now, one hand to his mouth, to blow a sharp piercing whistle. The entirety of the forest crew, now roused from the gentle lull of their midday rest, sidled over to meet his troubled gaze. After a moments consideration he addressed them all slowly, and deliberately. "Men, the situation is worse then we had previously thought", and he turned to look at Heinrich, who in a rare moment of tacitness had fore gone his usual impertinent behavior, and now held a solemn look. All feelings of excitement and adventure brought upon by this strange new environment were now gone. "Heinrich, has assured me that-", and a pause now,- "that Carentan, gentlemen, is nowhere to be found." There was a hushed uproar, as the men broke out into troubled murmurings. Johaan held his hand up for silence, and the murmuring ceased. He continued once more. "For that matter, it is of no guarantee that we are still in Saint-Lô or even France". " I believe, that I do not need to remind any of you", and he looked across the faces of every man as he said this, "that the circumstances concerning our arrival here, are at present, a mystery", there were several nods of agreement at this. "Rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this... conundrum, Heinrich has described to me with great certainty that, aside from some isolated structure he had seen in the distance there are no other signs of civilization present".

Heinrich nodded at this and looked expectingly to his CO, "A great White Castle, not too far from here. We could reach it within the day if we started now."

"And that", concluded Johaan, "is what we will do. Grab your gear men, we set out immediately".

They made quite a peculiar sight, the men of the reich, as they moved through the foliage with great deliberation, soldiers of the Wehrmacht and the Luftwaffe traveling hand in hand, sharp steel grey contrasting with muddled browns and greens. At the head of the column, were Johaan and his paratroopers, Heinrich at the lead, their sleek predatory gaits making minimal noise. They may have struck quite a menacing impression to any onlookers, as they prowled forth like leapords on the hunt.

At the rear, were the artillery men, led by an enthusiastic man of prominent cheekbones, and bright eyes, who with a smart salute, and a vigorous shake of the hand had introduced himself to Johaan as, Gefreiter Schleiger, or "Konrad, if you please". They moved through the trees with great effort, brash like bulls, splitting the quiet with raucous grunts, limber and gun carriage trailing along with them all the while.

Krieg, ever the loner, opted to travel in the middle, providing a delicate link between jäger and artillery.

For hours they trudged along in this manner, moving as swiftly as any infantry column could with limbered artillery in tow (for its crew had steadfastly refused to abandon it). They traversed over rugged country, past towering cliff faces, and rushing brooks, the likes of which held breathtaking beauty in their depths. At times, the forest would thin to a lush plain, dotted only scarcely with tall wooded growths. Here the bright open sky hung above the men endlessly, like an expansive cerulean ocean interrupted only scarcely by puffy white clouds. At one point, the men had traversed along the edge of a clearing, and upon gazing into its expanse, had happened upon a spectacular stretch of dark grey ruins. The men stopped only briefly to take in the sights, until they were goaded back into action by Wilhelm's firm impulsions.

For the most part, all this was lost on Johaan who had remained silent since the group had begun their trek. It was amazing, the negativity that could well up in a man when he was left alone to his thoughts. He had been brooding silently, still trying to wrap his mind around the whole fiasco when a bizarre howl resounded through the trees, snapping him out of his trance-like contemplation.

It wasn't the first time the denizens of this timberland had made their presence known in such a fashion, it was however the first time the group had heard it so closely, only a few yards away by some estimations, and so the entire procession had come to a grinding halt. Wolves, they knew, or bears, though uncommon, could be a fierce danger when riled.

Wilhelm, ever vigilant, heard it first. The low thump and crinkle of heavy foot falls in the foliage accompanied by a deep hungering growl, much too heavy sounding to be a bear, even more so a wolf. He motioned to Johaan who signaled to the rest of the column with a wave of his hand. They in turn, knelt down silently amongst the brush. A chorus of mechanical mechanisms being operated sounded in the stillness of the moment as weapons were produced, rounds chambered, and bolts locked into place. Most of the jäger shouldered deadly fg42 automatic rifles with the exception of Wilhelm, who readied the ubiquitous mg42; a detachable drum magazine protruding from its side. The big man handled it easily, and generally preferred firing it without the bipod.

The weapons crew, who were loathe to waste their valuable 20mm ammunition on what was most likely some dumb animal, drew instead, Walther p38 side arms. Konrad himself, being quick on the draw, had already knelt down with mp40 submachine gun in hand.

The forest was deathly still now, the only movement being the rustling of bushes and low trees as whatever manner of creature resided in the recesses of these woods marched to almost certain doom.

Then, the rustling ceased, and there was a brief pause interrupted only by Johaans murmurings. "steady men, steady", he recited, until finally, after what had seemed like hours, an explosion of activity, as a very odd creature bounded out of the tree line with dizzying speed. It was a black gnarly thing standing taller than most humans, with jagged bony plates protruding from it like spikes. On its face, was that same bony white material, menacing red eyes peering out of crevices for the eyes. It was demented, it was evil, it was some sort of cross breed between an ape and a rabid dog, and it was the most hideous thing Johaan had ever seen in his life.

"Oh god, Oh god!", that was the general consensus amongst the men as they stared at the vile filth, mouths agape in horror.

Surprisingly, the soldiers, not the monster struck first. With a fierce cry of, "kill the fuck!", one vengeful paratrooper let loose his full fury on the beast, all professionalism forgotten, finger depressing the trigger to unleash a hail of rifle fire. He was soon joined by the entirety of the forest group as they lay upon the unholy spawn with a withering staccato of automatic fire. The beast, surprisingly durable, held firm, bucking and thrashing about as 7.92x57 Mauser, and 9mm parabellum tore into its flesh.

With a roar of fury it made to rush the group, mindless anger blazing in its eyes, heeding no pain, no injury, claws out stretched to grasp and tear. The men scattered, diving recklessly to the sides as the beast bowled through the group. It was a short lived victory though, as the soldiers, now surrounding it on all sides, stood once more and unleashed upon it, hot lead from all directions until finally, a round through the eye socket, courtesy of Heinrich, ended its miserable existence.

The group, hearts pounding and adrenaline rushing, let loose nervous chuckles upon seeing the smote carcass of the fiend. Now, curiosity overtaking them, they moved closer to inspect the thing. One of the artillery men, who favored himself a learned man, leaned in particularly close and prodded at it with his hand gun.

"I've heard of an animal like this before, but I never thought I'd see one with my own eyes", a disbelieving uproar amongst the men as he said this, "aye", he said, placating them with a wild hand gesture, "a lowland gorilla is what they're called, an African animal, very peculiar".

This earned him several nods of the head, mostly by those men who had never once visited a zoo or read a book of zoology of any sort, while others began to voice their own equally wild opinions. Soon enough, the forest, once so quiet, had broken into a raucous commotion one again.

"Gentlemen!, Jäger!, calm yourselves damn you!", try as he might, Johaan could not gain the men's attention. Recognizing it as a lost cause, he turned to Wilhelm instead. Where it may have taken Johaan a day and a half, and quite a bit of shouting at that, to regain some semblance of order, Wilhelm did so with the utterance of a single word. "Quiet", he commanded, and the soldiers did so immediately. Johaan, now seeing his opportunity, at once began to deliver a slightly irritated tirade.

"May I remind you, Gentlemen, that our purpose here is not to go about, aggravating the local... fauna", and he looked distastefully at the quickly putrefying corpse as he said this, "but to resolve our most "peculiar predicament" at post haste, and return to the 6th regiment where we are needed", "The fatherland needs us", he continued, "I trust, that you have not forgotten what you fight for so soon". A load of patriotic bull crap, for he himself didn't believe in such things, but, it seemed to do the job, for the men now stood at obedient attention. Wilhelm gave him a firm pat on the back at this, a showing approval it seemed.

"Very well, Heinrich, you will lead us on to this castle, I trust you have not forgotten the way in this excitement?"

"No sir", he responded cheekily, that distinctive wry grin present once more, and already moving onwards.

Then a shrill howling shriek resounded in the distance from far off, and then another, and another, drawing ever closer. The beast had friends, it seemed.

Johaan, who had moved to follow Heinrich, turned his head slightly to face the group who had lingered behind in a stupor, "and Krieg,... I believe its time to put that flamethrower to good use".

A husky voice rasped out in reply, "With pleasure. Sir".

Then, in the setting sun, the forest erupted in brilliant flames.

Hate it, flame it, I don't give a shit, I wrote it on a whim pretty much and didn't really expect it to be good especially considering I wrote the entire thing on my iPhone on the toilet. This most likely won't be continued, but we'll see, maybe.


	2. Welcome to beacon

Excerpt from the parachutists Ten Commandments-

1. You are the chosen ones of the German Army. You shall seek combat and train yourselves to endure any manner of test. To you, battle shall be the fulfillment.

A dense haze of smoke had permeated the air, obscuring Johaans sight as he stumbled through brush, and tree. He cursed, as he tripped over an exposed root, but righted himself immediately in his scramble to escape the suffocating noxious fumes and heat of burning forest. Everywhere clothing exposed skin, the sting of cinder was felt, his lungs burned furiously.

Inwardly, he cursed Krieg with all his might, the man was simply insane. Now, perhaps Johaan had been a bit too vague in his definition of "a good use", when he had suggested to Krieg that a healthy application of the flamethrower might've been called for to drive back the beasts of the forest, he could admit to a fault in that respect, but surely the man had at least some modicum of common sense in that damned head of his, enough at least to realize that even the smallest spark in a forest could turn into a raging inferno, and that with the slightest breeze, could be set about wildly in any direction. Imagine his surprise then, when Krieg, whistling a jaunty tune, had instead stepped forward and unleashed a veritable deluge of liquid fire upon everything that was even remotely flammable, which in a forest was... everything.

Ah, was that the sky he could see in the distance?, so magnificent, in all his life he had never seen anything quite as enticing. He grew excited at this, and with one last desperate dash, burst clear of the tree line, the men following hot on his heels (literally), and into the clearing where they collapsed, retching into helmets with reckless abandon.

Oh, the joys of the open air!

Mentally, Johaan made a note to supervise Krieg more closely next time. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a simple matter of delivering swift punishment to the miscreant as a deterrent against future acts of misconduct. He reminded himself however, that this was not a normal circumstance, and that Krieg, although he deferred to his command for the moment, was neither a member of his squad or the luftwaffe.

At his rear, Johaan could hear Wilhelm, dependable Wilhelm, as he barked harsh orders at the men, urging them to their feet.

"There is no nap time in this squad!, to your feet soldiers!", he would shout, himself, seemingly unaffected by the whole fiery ordeal. The men, however, were much too intent on tending to their aches to obey even Wilhelm's commands.

So occupied were they, with the tasks of hacking, wheezing, and coughing pitifully, that none noticed the soft footfalls of approaching man on grass until he stood, a mere few feet from them.

Wilhelm, already on his feet, had drawn his sidearm in a flash and had him by the scruff of his neck, pistol jammed threateningly under the chin.

Forcing himself to his feet shakily, Johaan looked to the man in Wilhelm's grasp, and saw that he had his hands raised in a placating manner.

"Release him", he ordered.

Wilhelm did so, albeit reluctantly, and took a step back, stowing pistol in the folds of his coat. Now Johaan could get a good look at the bystandard.

For a second, the man stood adjusting the green scarf around his neck, where Wilhelm had undoubtably clenched with undue callousness, before brown eyes met Johaans own steely blue and the two stared silently, sizing each other up.

He was a man of grey hair but, oddly enough, not exactly elderly in appearance for his face was smooth, and free of wrinkles and his hair, much too voluminous to be thinning. He was in fact a quite youthful looking man, long tousled bangs let loose, swept more to one side, and flowing almost over his bespectacled eyes. An unruly look. His countenance was a bit difficult to decipher, but his eyes told all that was needed to know about him. There was a fierce intelligence in that look, and a great deal of experience, though of what, Johaan did not know.

Johaan, by contrast, though his hair was a sleek black without the faintest traces of greying white, had an orderly look about him and appeared very much the senior of the two. It was styled slicked back, short and smooth, very linear. His face was a rugged thing, and slightly worn with harsh tired lines, beaten and folded by the weariness of war, which crossed his face and gave him a hard look.

A partisan perhaps?, but unlikely as the man seemed to have no weapons on him and Johaan had never known any to approach a group of soldiers so callously. A civilian then, and one native to this region most likely. This was good, this was what Johaan had been looking for.

He seemed unthreatened in the least bit by Johaan and his men, perhaps he was German?

"What's your name civilian, and in what part of Germany, or Europe is this?"

no answer, the man simply raised an eyebrow at this.

Perhaps he was French then?, and the men were still in Saint-Lô somewhere.

Johaan repeated himself, this time in somewhat crude French.

"What is your name civilian, and in what part of France, or Europe is this?"

Still, the man was silent and Johaan became supremely irritated at this, if he would not speak, how then, would Johaan know which language he was versed in?

Konrad, who had sidled up to him at some point chose this moment to interject, "perhaps he is a mute?"

It was a possibility, but Johaan doubted that, and there was yet one more language he could try.

"What is your name civilian, and in what part of the world is this?"

A glimmer of recognition then, English was a rather wide spread language after all, and Johaan himself could speak it fluently enough.

Finally, the man spoke, his voice rather smooth, and suave.

"My name is Ozpin", he said, "and you are in vale, currently trespassing on beacon grounds to be exact". It was certainly English he spoke, but surprisingly, in the Yankee dialect.

"Beacon?"

"Beacon academy", he clarified, looking over Johaans shoulder now, towards where he knew a large plume of smoke must now be rising high into the sky, "and this forest was meant to be where my students held their initiation... exam, so imagine my surprise when a large band of strangers comes marching in and burning large swathes of it to ash."

This response was rather surprising to Johaan. Was the American populace so ignorant about the war which they were now a part of, to not realize when the enemy was standing, a mere few feet from them?

No. The American president, Roosevelt was it?, had stirred a great deal of commotion about it when it was declared. Mass media he knew, was a powerful force.

"Don't play jokes with me cowboy", he spat out contemptuously, "where in America are we?"

The now named Ozpin seemed to be taken aback by this though it was not obvious by his expression which for the most part, remained unreadable.

A moment of silence, and then Ozpin spoke, "it would seem we have much to discuss and night is falling so, you and your men can either stay out here in the dark or- you could accompany me back to my office in Beacon".

To this Johaan agreed and so the entire procession, minus one flak 38 which had been abandoned (albeit very reluctantly) in the rush to escape the flames, set off once again, following some strange foreign man to whoever knows where.

It had been quite a lengthy trek around the side of an imposing cliff face to reach Beacon academy. The sight of it however, had at once made the trip, to Heinrich at least, well worth it.

"What did I say, it is a castle!", he beamed excitedly at this and began to point out the tippy top of the tallest tower, "that's what I saw in the distance!".

Konrad, who apparently knew a thing or two about architecture, looked on with interest, "a very strange construction", he said, "the main body, a bit French gothic in nature like a cathedral, flying buttresses and what not, but- surrounded by an arcade as well, decidedly Roman, like on the aqueducts, and this is the strangest part", he continued, "tall thin towers, very Arabic in nature, minarets maybe?"

"You're a well traveled man I take it?", mused Johaan idly.

He shrugged, "I've studied a bit of architecture before the- well, you know". Soldiers it seemed, came from all walks of life.

The interior of the school, though less imposing than the sumptuous heights of the exterior, was equally grand, but quite empty.

"The school year", Ozpin explained, "hasnt started yet".

He led them through a few hallways, to a discrete metal door where upon the press of a button, it slid to the side. An elevator it seemed, no doubt the man had his office at the very top of the central tower. Motioning for the rest of the group to wait outside, Johaan joined Ozpin in the elevator alone.

It was a silent ride, neither of the two men spoke, so an awkward silence had prevailed until finally, with an abrupt stop, the elevator doors slid open once again, depositing the two men in a sizeable circular room. Somewhere off to the side, strange metal gears spun idly, but Johaan paid them no attention, his gaze focused entirely on the man before him, who had plopped himself down behind a large wooden desk.

"You teach here?"

"I am, head master"

An awkward silence.

Then, Ozpin spoke once again, "before, you had asked me where we were, and I feel perhaps I hadn't clarified well enough, so", and he clasped his hands together at this, "currently, you are on the planet remnant, on the continent of vytal, and in the kingdom of vale, which together with 3 other kingdoms, form the 4 major safe havens of mankind against the grim."

Vytal? Vale?, Johaan scoffed at this.

"I see you do not believe me, then, may I ask, where do you think you are?"

Johaan was all too eager to voice his opinion, "Some where in America most likely, in the midst of some deranged reclusive cult who's members are prone to forming continents out of their imagination".

"and you truly believe this?"

Johaan faltered at this, he had wanted to give an immediate and firm yes, but somewhere deep inside was the gnawing truth, that this was in fact, just as far fetched as the notion that he could be in another world entirely.

Receiving no response, Ozpin continued, "you're not from around here are you? Many things tell me this, your appearance, your manner of dress, your strange languages and...", he eyed Johaans fg42 as he said this, "your weapons".

"Now may I ask, how did you end up in the emerald forest?".

Still, Johaan remained silent.

"Ah, you don't know do you?, well neither do I, my cameras only show me portions of the forest, and you seem to have appeared from one of their blind spots. So, what are your plans now that you're here, in an unfamiliar land, surrounded by unfamiliar people?".

Johaan, who had since the moment he encountered Ozpin pegged him as the scheming sort, spoke up now, "I suppose you're about to tell me?"

"Fight for me", he said simply.

A testy pause permeated the air.

"You misunderstand us", said Johaan, "we fight for Germany".

Ozpin stood now, and wandered over to a large glass window where he gazed out into the distance.

"This land, is at peace now, but- it will not last forever". "Soon, the roiling tides of strife and chaos will wash over the kingdoms once more, and embroil us in death". "You say you fight for Germany, I profess, I've never heard of it before, but you're here now, a part of this land whether you like it or not".

"All the same", said Johaan, "it is our country. This is not"

Ozpin let out a large breath, "and you fight for your country? Strange, I did not peg you as the type."

Johaan grew enraged at this and slammed his palms against Ozpins desk, creating a loud ringing echo. "I trust you did not bring me here just to insult me", he spat vehemently.

"you do not deny it then?"

A curse. Johaan knew what Ozpin said was true. He enjoyed the Luftwaffe, enjoyed fighting, and was good at it, but- he had never actually cared for what it represented. The kaiser. The fuhrer. They could've been the same fat pretentious cunt for all Johaan cared. Germany was his home, yes, and he thought of it fondly, but he was never a fanatic, never bought into the whole "master race" ideology. This, however, he had never said aloud, and he wouldn't damn well start now.

"I fight for my country", and it wasn't a lie. As a member of the Luftwaffe he did fight for Germany, even if he never thought of it that way.

Ozpin gave a knowing smirk, "all the same, you have no country to fight for at the moment, so why not make a difference here?, I can offer you and your men employment, a place to stay, this land needs all the capable warriors it can get, the Grimm will stop at nothing to wipe humanity off the face of the planet".

There was that word again, "Grimm?".

"Creatures of darkness, beings of hate who kill indiscriminately. You were in the emerald forest, you must have encountered them at some point".

This brought a spark of recognition to Johaans eyes, "ah, those queer black creatures you keep in your forests with the white bony protrusions?, that is the source of your woes? Some dumb beasts?"

Ozpin grew a slight frown at this, "a Beowulf no doubt, and I assure you they are a much greater threat than you believe, but- no, I suspect that the coming turmoil will be the result of something much more than they alone."

"So, about my offer"-, he began to say but was cut off.

"What kind of school has need of soldiers for any matter?"

"Ah", said Ozpin, "I seem to have neglected to mention, you stand in Beacon academy, school of the finest hunters and huntresses in all of remnant. Here, we train our students to be the defenders of good against evil".

There was no small amount of pride in that voice, and Johaan had to admit it was somewhat inspiring to hear talk of good and evil, even though he knew there were no such distinctions.

There was a moment of deliberation, then at last, a response, "Hmph, I will consent, for now, but the men stay under my command".

"Of course", he replied, smirk finding its way onto his face once more, "I will have someone show you to your accommodations."

Johaan turned to leave, but was stopped as Ozpin called out once more, "oh, and welcome to Beacon mister-?"

"Adler, Oberjager Johaan Adler of the Luftwaffe".

It was another silent elevator ride from Ozpins office, albeit slightly less awkward as Johaan rode alone. There, at the ground floor of Beacon, he was met with an interesting sight as the doors slid open. A peculiar blonde woman, stern of countenance and rather indecent of dress with what Johaan assumed to be a riding crop, stood, arms folded, glaring at his second in command. Wilhelm, who towered over her mightily, glared right back with his intense piercing gaze, but the woman seemed entirely uncowed.

"It seems you have made a friend", joked Johaan, a rare occurrence, but then again so was the scene before him.

Hearing the voice of his squad leader seemed to jar Wilhelm out of his staring contest, and he broke eye contact first. He then marched over to Johaan, and dragged him bodily to the other side of the hallway before the other man could utter even the faintest of protest.

"I trust you have a good reasoning for this brash behavior?", Johaan questioned.

"did you strike a deal with these people?", said Wilhelm suddenly, his voice low and dangerous.

"In lieu of no other options, yes"

Wilhelm sucked in a harsh breath at that, "tell me, are we to be soldiers of Germany?, or whores".

Johaan, growing angered as well, hissed out, "what would you have me do?, shoot the lot of them, then leave, left to our own devices, with nary a clue as to our purpose?"

"Yes", Wilhelm replied, there was no hesitation in that voice.

Frustrated now, Johaan exhaled audibly, "this land is not our own", he said, "you know this, and I'll not have the entire group brought to ruin because of your self-adulation". It was a bit harsher than Johaan had intended, but it worked, and Wilhelm's expression seemed to falter for a moment.

"Ahem", a dry cough. The woman, now with an annoyed look on her face spoke up from across the hall, in English. "I would love to stand here and listen to your gibberish, but if you don't mind I have better things to do with my time".

Wilhelm grit his teeth at that, and left to rejoin the rest of the group, who had been watching silently. Johaan followed.

She led them down to a rather long continuous hallway, a multitude of doors lining both walls, the schools dormitories no doubt. Here, she produced four keys, handing them all to Johaan. "Four to a room", she said, "two of you can have a room to yourselves", and with that she turned and left, but not before calling over her shoulder one final time.

"class starts next week".

...

"Class?", replied Johaan in a stupor.

So, remember how I said that this probably wouldn't be continued?, well apparently one guy thought it was "purty good", so I figured as long as I'm going to be on the shitter multiple times a day, I might as well do something at least vaguely constructive with that time.

This chapter was a bit shorter, but I felt like the end was a good place to stop. I'll probably write longer chapters than this normally.

Oh, and as before, hate it, flame it, whatever floats your boat.


	3. Vale

Before you read this chapter, I feel I must warn you that there are some nazi elements in it (not a lot). This is somewhat unavoidable when your characters are German militants from the 1900s I believe, so if you feel uncomfortable about that I'm warning you now.

The sound of Johaans footfalls were particularly loud against the silence of Ozpins circle office. It was there he had headed, as soon as the first light of the morning sun had spilt through his window. He was, as ever, and as a necessity an early riser, despite the fact that last nights sleep had been nothing short of downright unpleasant. The beds, he discovered, had clearly been made with nothing larger than children in mind and so were quite uncomfortable for a man the size of Johaan and, even more so Wilhelm, who had deigned to sleep on the floor instead. Still, it wasn't the worst he'd ever had, it was a rare occurrence after all, that soldiers in the field would have beds at all.

No, his beauty sleep was the least of Johaans concerns at the moment.

Ozpin, ever the image of calm tranquility sat behind that big desk of his, sipping something steaming out of a mug.

"I had thought", began Johaan tentatively, "that I agreed to fight, not attend some childish classes".

The sharp sound of ceramic mug on wooden desk was heard, as Ozpin set aside his beverage in favor of clasping hands.

"And you will- in due time, of that I assure you, and who knows?", he continued, "maybe you could learn a thing or two from the teachers here, that is of course, unless they provide Remnant curriculum in Germany."

There was a scoff at this, "the men will never consent to this, and at any rate I'm sure none of your professors would appreciate having strange grown men in their classes, many of whom cannot speak the language, I might add."

"Ah, then in that case, I do know of several daycare programs in vale which teach the alphabet to young children, perhaps you could send them there?", a twinkle of the eyes. A joke it seemed.

"The sad truth of it is", said Johaan, an image of Heinrich flashing briefly in his mind, "that some of them would not be too out of place there".

A short silence settled as both men shared humored smirks.

"Attend the classes, or not, it's your choice, however I am curious to know, and perhaps you'll indulge me in this, how is it that men from another world came to speak the language of my own?"

Johaan laughed at this, "there are many languages where im from, this is but one of them."

"Indeed?, its a strange coincidence isn't it?"

"It is", he agreed.

Ozpin leaned forward now, at rapt attention, "is it spoken often in Germany?"

"English?, no", he waved his hand dismissively at this, "it is the language of the English men, island people, who hold a great amount of land overseas. It is strange though, you speak more like Americans than English men."

"America, that's where you thought you were, I remember, and they speak english there?"

"They were english once, I believe, the english you see, had many colonies."

"Oh?, a very expansive people, and you have nothing like the Grimm in your world to drive them back?"

Johaan contemplated this for a moment, "perhaps, when men were primitive, we once did, but they've long since been driven to extinction."

"An interesting sounding place, I would've liked to visit it if i could."

"Perhaps not"

Ozpin raised an eyebrow at this.

"War", explained Johaan, "has a way of bringing all manner of unpleasantries to a place. I had been fighting in a war, you see, a world war fought across the globe". He looked down at Ozpin now, a bitter expression on his face, "Me and my men must return at some point. We cannot stay here."

"no", agreed Ozpin, "but I would be lying if I said I knew a way for you to go back."

There was an uncomfortable silence now, before Ozpin spoke once again, "and what of Germany?"

"What of it?"

"What is it like?"

Johaan, having never been asked this question before, faltered for a moment.

"It is a proud country which has had one too many mad men leading it", a vague answer, he knew, and the most he cared to speak of it at the moment.

Again, an uncomfortable silence permeated the room, ending that line of conversation abruptly.

This time, it was Johaan who spoke first, "One more thing", he said, pulling out two objects from a pouch on his harness, magazines for his rifle and handgun. He handed them to Ozpin, who reached out to take them in his hand. "My men need ammunition, the Grimm- they are quite durable and we will run out eventually."

Ozpin looked at the objects inquisitively, and removed metallic golden brown rods of a sort from each of them.

"Bullets?"

"Ah so you know what they are then?, good."

"Many, of my students have weapons which incorporate firearm aspects to them, I believe some make their ammunition themselves, perhaps you should do this, as I'm unaware of any manufacturers who make bullets of these dimensions."

To say Johaan was surprised at that, would've been an understatement at the very least. "Perhaps", he began in disbelief, "I did not hear you correctly, you allow your students to make their own munitions? The chemical expertise required in such a process, especially in components of the powder- surely you jest."

Now it was Ozpins turn to be surprised. "Powder, is that a term for dust?"

"That would depend on what dust is". Johaan put a hand to his chin unconsciously. "Surely, it has some ulterior meaning in this land, something I'm not aware of?"

Ozpin leaned back in his chair now, preparing some provisional explanation. "I won't get into the details, but essentially, it's the fundamental energy source we humans on Remnant use to power everything; a pure substance that comes in four basic variations."

"Convenient", said Johaan, sounding genuinely impressed, "and no, it's not the same thing, from what I understand the propellant in these bullets are composed of some chemical mix, nitrocellulose? I believe that was the name of an important component, the rest I'm afraid, I'm unsure of. At any rate", he continued, "can you help me in this prospect or not?, neither I or my men possess the capabilities to produce ammunition Im afraid."

There was a moment of contemplation at this. "I'll see what can be done", he answered finally.

"Good". Ammunition, Johaan knew, was a soldiers best friend and he was loathe to go without it.

At this, he turned to leave, but once again, it seemed Ozpin had one more thing to say.

"Perhaps, you should visit vale sometime?".

If Johaans curiosity was piqued at this, his facial expression didn't show it. "Is it in the vicinity?"

"Relatively, but accessible only by air from here. You could take one of the schools shuttles, Glynda, I believe, has business there today."

Glynda, the name needed no explanation being that she was the only woman in the school currently.

Johaan nodded at this. "I will consider it", then the elevator door slid shut and Ozpin was once again, alone.

"English", he said to himself, feeling the word roll off his tongue.

Interesting.

It was sometime around midday, when the entirety of the Remnant expedition (as it was being referred as now) had congregated in beacons rather extravagant dining hall. This was a grand thing, every bit as grand as the rest of the building would have suggested. It was sizable lengthwise and in its width, with a towering ceiling height, and lined on either side by tall windows which lit the place in dramatic fashion, quite reminiscent of the chiaroscuro in baroque paintings of old. Here, they had gathered around their leader who stood, somewhat dramatically atop a table, harsh light lancing across the hall in a criss-crossing fashion behind him. No doubt he was preparing to give one of those formal addresses he seemed to be so fond of, as these were almost always delivered in the most thespian of locations when he could find one.

There was a short dry cough emitted, such as the one usually used to gain a crowds attention, but in this case was most likely to feed his overt dramatization. Those who were not in Johaans squad, and unused to his mannerisms blinked owlishly at that, as everyone was already at attention. "As you have most likely recognized at this point, our situation at present is a most peculiar one. Gentlemen, I will not lie to you, we are as far from home as can be, and have currently, no viable method of return."

This of course, the men had already concluded on their own, as contrary to Johaans belief, they were not wholly incompetent, and so there was very little disturbance amongst the crowd when it was said.

"The establishment we reside in currently, is known as Beacon to the locals, a military academy of sorts, I gather."

There was a short pause here as he tried out various ways of wording the next sentence in his head. None, however, sounded any better than the last.

"As it stands now, we are to be in the employ of this establishment, as mercenaries of a sort, on paid salary."

When the inevitable uproar broke out, it was only after much shouting, and the harsh lashings of Wilhelm's voice for order, was Johaan able to continue once more.

"I assure you gentlemen, that this measure is simply provisional. It is paramount", he continued with especial emphasis, "that any consequent action to be taken now, is thought through thoroughly and with supreme prudence."

He stepped off the table to address the group more personally now.

"Now, who amongst us is well versed in English?". A smattering of hands were raised, one, two, three, four. More than Johaan had expected.

He turned to the first. "Wilhelm, you will run the men through drills today". A collective groan was earned from this, but silenced by a wave of his hand. "The discipline in this squad, I feel, has become a bit lax as of late."

"And the men of the Wehrmacht?"

"We will operate as a single unit as of now. Bring them up to par."

There was no protest at this, it seemed none of them wished to test his authority.

Wilhelm nodded. That left three.

Konrad, he had expected. Heinrich?, now that was a surprise, then there was Aldrich, a long time member of Johaans squad. He wasn't a very outstanding man, barely noticeable on regular occasions, and had this peculiar habit of wearing his helmet in such a fashion that it seemed to rest exceptionally low on his head, so a dark shadow would drop down and obscure much of his face. A mysterious look, but completely unnecessary as Johaan already knew exactly what he looked like. He also knew that Aldrich, unlike Heinrich, was quite diligent in his duties, and generally followed whatever orders he was given. He was a professional man, who rarely spoke out of line, and this, Johaan appreciated greatly.

"You two", he said, whilst pointing rather imperiously (a trait he often acquired when he was in full flow), "will accompany me to the city today. Your equipment, I assure you, will not be needed". He himself had shed his military coat and helmet so as to better blend with the general populace, for he knew that most civilians had a virulent distaste for foreign soldiers wandering their streets. He kept his pistol stowed in his trousers, of course, as no experienced soldier felt complete without a weapon of some sort on hand, then he made for the exit knowing full well that most would also do almost anything to avoid participating in drills.

Sure enough, there was an audible scramble to shed harnesses and coats, as the two aforementioned soldiers rushed to join Johaan at the exit. Aldrich, who knew Wilhelm's martinetish manner particularly well, caught up first.

Before the men could leave however, Wilhelm, who had also caught up to Johaan with those massive gaits of his, pulled him aside once again.

The other two men left the dining hall in a hurry, evidently not too interested in what the devil had to say.

"what is it this time", hissed Johaan irritably, " I must say I'm growing somewhat tired of this newfound habit of yours".

"I understand the necessity for such measures", Wilhelm responded unflinchingly.

A vague statement but Johaan had a feeling he already knew what it was about.

"But?"

"But, we should not idle here too long. The men- they will grow complacent. They will forget Germany, and no amount of drilling or parade ground rehearsal will prevent that. They need a cause worth fighting for. Not money."

"I know this", he replied, knowing well that it would not do for him to be second guessed by his second in command, not when the squad was in such a precarious position. That would be a bad business.

Luckily Wilhelm seemed reassured by this simple statement.

"Good". He gave him a firm pat on the shoulder at this then left, no doubt to stir up hell amongst the unlucky men who would be running drills.

It had taken quite a while for the trio to find their way out of Beacon, and this was due in no small part, because they had at first, been following Johaan, and it was only after the sixth time they had passed the same marble archway did they realize that, perhaps, he didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was doing. Johaans pride of course, would never admit to that, and so it was only after much beseeching on Konrad's part did Johaan finally consent to allow him to, in his own words, "employ his architectural expertise in the endeavor of their swift ex-filtration". Needless to say, they made it out in under a minute after that.

From there it was a brisk march through the academies gardens, a long straight pathway lined on either side by street lamps, to the edge of the high plateau which Beacon was situated on.

Here, they were met by quite the interesting sight. The so called "shuttle", they had discovered, was a very curious contraption to say the least. It was a clean white craft with some grey components here and there; a very exotic looking thing, sleek and flat with a deck, somewhat like a craft on the high seas, a cruiser perhaps?, or a battleship, except Johaan knew the Bismarck outclassed it in size. At any rate, it looked far more sea worthy then flight capable with its strange design. ( it had no wings!)

Johaan, being the staunch man of the Luftwaffe he was, grew quite excited at the sight.

Konrad on the other hand, not so much. "How then", he deliberated, "is this monstrosity supposed to fly, with no wings and no propellor to speak of".

"No idea my good man, but I must say, it looks quite fantastic"

"What it looks like, is a floating barge- no coffin, that will soon drag us to our fiery deaths the moment we depart."

Johaan, obviously paying little heed to Konrad's concerns simply gave an enthused, "nothing for it then", and with that, crossed the narrow bridge separating Beacon grounds from dubious aircraft, sealing Konrad's fate along the way. Aldrich followed without hesitation.

Paratroopers it seemed, just couldn't keep their feet on solid ground.

He shook his head at this, and gave one last hopeful glance at Beacons enticing cobblestone path, before following Johaan to his doom.

Along the way, the trio passed a certain Glynda woman, who upon seeing them opened her mouth awkwardly as if in some form of protest, but then decided otherwise and promptly turned the other way.

Johaan, who seemed to be in much too cheery of a mood for Konrad's liking, gave her a curt wave.

"Now then, there are no seats?, strange, but ah, large windows, that will do nicely."

The three men gathered alongside one of the crafts enormous windows, and stood, waiting with much anticipation.

Moments passed, unbearable moments for Konrad, then there was a short lurch, and a feeling of weightlessness, just for a second, which made his insides feel as though they were about to exit through his mouth.

"My god", he could hear Johaan say, "it's even better then I thought. A craft, capable of vertical take off. Fantastic. Ah, and those must be the wings. So you see, nothing to worry about my good man."

Konrad, looking out the window now, saw that indeed, there were wings, now slowly rising from whichever way they were folded before, that kept them out of sight. This was somewhat comforting to Konrad, though just a little.

They rode in relative silence, for what must've been around an hour or so. After the initial excitement had past, it was rather like riding a zeppelin of sorts, very slow for some odd reason, even with those strange propulsion systems that Johaan had called jet engines. It offered a good view though, and Konrad drank in the sights with great vigor, at least for a while.

He had been gazing in somewhat of a stupor at the same distant mountain range that he had spotted a good thirty minutes ago, when a firm hand on his shoulder caught his attention.

"You see that dark smudge on the horizon", said Johaan, "that, I believe, is the city. Vale is its name."

"Vale", he repeated. A strange name.

He stared at the smudge now, in fascination. What, he wondered, would a city in this world look like?

Unfortunately, as they began to draw closer and closer to the city, Johaan had begun to grow increasingly underwhelmed by the sight. Of course, he was inclined to voice this sentiment aloud.

"A sizable city, but surely no larger then Berlin and", he continued, "I am told that it is one of only four sizeable cities in this world."

"Truly?". Konrad was greatly surprised at this, if the other three cities were of comparable size, that was of cause for concern. Great cause.

"Indeed, apart from a few small settlements, this is the extent to which man has spread across the land."

"So few people", voiced Konrad, somewhat in disbelief.

Johaan gave a slight nod, "they lay on the brink of annihilation, and this is considered a prosperous period". He scoffed at this.

"Low birth rates amongst the populous maybe?", offered Konrad.

A shrug from Johaan at this. "Who knows, though I am told the people of this land are hounded by beasts at all times, confining them to the protection of the city walls. Those black beasts in the forest when we first arrived, you remember them?"

He nodded. Beasts, who dominated men. It was a strange thought, and slightly disconcerting.

The remainder of the commute, was traveled in silence.

It was the general consensus amongst the trio, upon taking their first steps into the city that, although nothing particularly special, it was at the very least, clean and orderly. A quaint city, as Johaan had said, with the feel of a small town. Architecturally speaking it wouldn't have seemed too out of place amongst the cities of Western Europe. Population wise, however, it was sorely lacking. Indeed there was an acute lack of foot traffic amidst the streets that had led Johaan to conclude that either Konrad was correct in his assumption or that the general populace was composed mainly of shut-ins.

"The people here seem a strange lot", said Konrad, walking in stride with Johaan.

He nodded in agreement at that. They had just now passed the sixth man with blue hair, and it was starting to grow somewhat uncanny.

"A penchant for dyes perhaps?", offered Konrad.

"Most likely. These people seem to have a very strange sense of fashion."

"Yes, very... Colorful outfits, and hair", then he grinned, "to them we must seem quite strange".

"Indeed", consented Johaan. He could see that they were drawing quite a few curious looks amongst their fellow pedestrians. Compared to them, they were garbed in rather drab ensemble. Military trousers in boots and plain undershirts wasn't a fashion trend in these parts apparently.

Konrad looked back to Aldrich now, who had been trailing behind them silently.

"And what do you think?".

He shrugged.

Mostly, it was the counting of colored heads that had engrossed the men's attention for so long. Besides the blues, they had soon discovered that not a single color of the rainbow had gone un-represented that day, and it had become somewhat of a game for them.

"Ah a green one", Konrad would say, "that's worth fifty points I believe".

Johaan, in the absence of more important lines of conversation had actually played along somewhat, if only to keep himself from succumbing to his incredible boredom.

"A rainbow one. Thats worth a thousand I believe".

Konrad sputtered indignantly at this, "there are only seven colors in a rainbow, seven times fifty is three hundred & fifty."

"There are bonus points for having them all together".

...

Yes, it was one of those days, when all was quiet and soldiers made do with whatever novelties they had before them, just to pass the time. Johaan couldn't remember the last time that had happened in a city, and a foreign one at that.

For the most part, the majority of the trios time spent in vale had been spent in this manner. This consisted mostly of walking, a great deal of walking (reconnaissance, Johaan had called it), as well as a great deal of observing. At some points they had passed by shops which had caught their attention with some baubles or exotic goods, but as the men had no money, they were forced to move on.

When night had fallen, the men were still in the city. By that time, the trickle of colorful headed pedestrians had slowly died out and thus, so had their amusement. The men, convinced that they had seen enough oddness for one day, had been on their way back to Beacons shuttle craft when a sudden commotion was heard ahead of them. The distinct sound of shattering glass racked the men's ears like nothing else, and was then followed by another sound, much louder, and seemed to reverberate through the still air like a chorus down the aisles of a church. This took the form of some high pitched chattering, very loud, very rapid, and very familiar to the men. It was the litany of war. Gunfire. This particular one most likely emitted from a submachine gun of sorts.

The trio, their curiosities piqued now, and not being ones to flee at the sound of gunfire, rushed down the city block towards the source of the commotion, their practiced military instincts recognizing the need for caution and softening their footfalls habitually. There, at the turn of the corner, they halted. The commotion, now just around the bend, could be heard more clearly now, the distinct cries of men in combat ringing out amidst the silence of the night. Johaan made a frantic hand gesture to which the muffled clicks of sidearms being produced rang out in response. He drew a Luger from his trousers, then, ever so slowly, he peaked his head out around the corner.

There, against the back drop of the blackened night and a shattered moon (which the men hadn't noticed whatsoever due to the strange happenings that were unfolding before them), a young girl in black and red beat four grown men savagely with a giant... Scythe?

Johaan motioned for the men to stay out of sight, so the trio ducked into a narrow alley way where they crouched down low, eyes affixed in observation.

There was a flurry of activity, too quick for the men to follow, as the girl rushed the four men, swinging that giant scythe all the while. The men were crushed, utterly. Some had attempted to swipe at the girl with strange red swords but none of their blows connected. There was a wince amongst the onlookers as one unfortunate bastard received a double legged kick straight in the face.

Konrad, his attention drawn by sudden movement in his peripheral vision, looked slightly to the right, whereupon his eyes settled on the most awkward creature he'd seen since his arrival In this world.

It was apparently, a man... Or something. This something in question had bright orange hair, done with an effeminate bang hanging low and covering one eye. It was adorned in a very... Extravagant white coat and some sort of hat, a fedora most likely, long eye lashes, and a most peculiar feature not usually seen on men. The thing was wearing eye liner.

"Ah", a glimmer of recognition was in Konrad's eyes now, "that must be the infamous homosexual... or transvestite perhaps, either one. I used to live next to some, you see. Of course, that was before the Gestapo made their rounds. Quite amiable people though a bit queer". Then he shrugged, "ah well, the fuhrer knows best so they say."

Said homosexual had, upon seeing his cronies collapse miserably before the onslaught of the teenaged tyke, fired some sort of explosive out of his cane whereupon he proceeded to make a dashing escape. By climbing slowly up a ladder.

The entire thing made for quite a ludicrous sight.

"Well", said Konrad in somewhat of a daze at the outlandishness of it all, "I dare say that just made the entire trip worth the time".

"Should we follow them?", he asked, as he watched the girl in red clear an entire building in a single leap (a trick of the light, no doubt).

Johaan shook his head at this. "A triviality nothing more, and none of our business anyway. At any rate, I'm a bit inclined to see this whole dust business first hand". He had of course, been eying the rather obvious from dust till dawn sign hanging over a now desecrated shop.

There was a twinkling of broken glass as Johaan stepped tentatively through the shattered window of the shop. Konrad, following him inside, eyed the shops wares in wonder. Every which way the eye traveled were multi colored wares of some sort, some, in the form of powder filled tubes, and others crystalline.

"Do you know what these are?", questioned Johaan as he inspected a tube of red powder.

"Assorted spices perhaps?"

This earned Konrad a somewhat annoyed look.

"If the headmaster of Beacon is to be believed, this is the universal energy source of this land. The people here use it for everything apparently."

Konrads eyes grew quite wide at the implication.

Johaan, catching his expression, continued, "aye, an extremely useful substance, and worth a fortune in whatever currency they use here most likely". He then gestured vaguely at one of the fallen cronies splayed on the ground outside the shop. "No doubt those men out there had come to rob this shop of this... dust."

"A universal power source", Konrad breathed in wonder, "so that aircraft from before ran on this dust substance?"

Johaan nodded in confirmation, "the headmaster- he had implied its use in ammunition as well".

"Fascinating. Simply fascinating."

"Indeed, now, how do we extract this dust?". At this, the two men began to fiddle with the tube awkwardly, as there was no obvious method in sight. No presence of a hinge was detected, which would have marked an opening by lid, though there was a small apparatus at the bottom of the tube, but much too small to stick a hand through.

"Sir", a voice rang out. Johaan recognized it as Aldrich.

There was a shuffling of feet and the sound of something rather heavy being dragged across the floor.

Johaan turned to see what, and was met with the sight of an old man in a red apron.

Aldrich threw him bodily to Johaans feet. "Found this one snooping behind the counter".

Johaan looked down on the man in appraisal. "The shop keeper no doubt, and just what we needed", he asserted.

"Tell me", he began to say in English, "what is an oriental such as yourself doing in-", then he stopped. No, he remembered, this wasn't earth and there was no orient, despite how much the man had the look of one about him.

Ignoring that particular fault, Johaan continued with his questions. "So, I take it these wares are for sale to the public?"

The man gave no answer.

Growling in annoyance, he struck out with a swift back hand. The blow connected with the mans cheek but before he could fall over, Johaan had hoisted him up roughly by the collar.

He held the man up at eye level now.

"Get a hold of yourself man", he spat.

A soft groan was emitted from the street outside the shop. The man twitched, narrow eyes darting towards the source wildly. Johaan followed his gaze.

"Ah, it seems our little friends are still alive. Don't worry they won't interrupt us I assure you". He had apparently mistaken the presence of the criminals as the source of the mans discomfort.

Nearby, Aldrich stood patiently, waiting for the order which he knew would come.

Johaan gave it. "Kill them".

Aldrich obliged, moving with the deliberateness of a soldier, no hesitation in that stride, gun in hand, ready to do his bloody work.

A shot rang out, then he moved onto the next and another shot, and another, all were to the head, there was no wasted ammo, and none cried out. Four clean kills.

"Now", said Johaan, back to the shopkeeper, who looked on rather nervously, "perhaps you'd like to offer us a sample of your wares". It was not a question.

He released him now, and the man stood shakily to his feet, whereupon he retrieved some strange cylindrical device.

"The red one, if you please", directed Johaan.

With a snap, the man plugged the cylinder into the apparatus at the bottom of the tube.

Konrad watched in interest as the level of red dust slowly declined. "A vacuum, strange, perhaps the substance possesses some volatility upon contact with the air?", an apt observation but Johaan paid it no heed.

Once the cylinder was full, the man handed the thing to Johaan, then ran through a door in the back of the store, no doubt a storage room of some sort, presumably to hide.

Aldrich made to follow him but was stopped by Johaan. "Leave him", he ordered, while walking to the counter.

With one swift motion, he swept the cash register, and everything else, off the counter top.

"Now, how does one use this device?, ah, I believe the shopkeeper used this button here."

There was a soft hissing noise as a small hole in the cylinder opened up, then Johaan dumped its contents rather haphazardly onto the counter where they formed a sizable red pile. Seeing this, he blew at the pile until only about a teaspoon remained.

"Now, your matches please", he said, knowing well that Konrad kept a supply with him at all times for his smokes.

These were handed to Johaan, who lit one immediately with a swift strike.

Slowly, tentatively, with match in hand, the bright flame crept ever closer to that strange red substance, until with a sudden motion, Johaan dropped it right on top.

This resulted in a bright explosive release, which the soldiers jumped back at. It was a strange red explosion, and highly energetic for the amount of reactant present. The men could feel a wave of heat wash over them, even after the blast had subsided.

Johaan wiped his brow, feeling an odd drop of sweat trickle down his forehead.

"A smokeless reaction", observed Konrad, "highly efficient, and lots of heat generated, useful for an incendiary device maybe?"

"Now that gentlemen, was interesting", said Johaan, and he was about to call for another test when a sudden clearing of the throat from behind, captured their attention.

The men turned suddenly, caught off guard, and quite surprised. They were met with the sight of a familiar blonde.

"Ah", greeted Johaan, "Ozpins secretary, what are you doing here?".

"I could ask the same of you", she responded rather suspiciously, "and my name is Goodwitch".

Her stern gaze shifted this way and that, taking in the state of the shop, the soldiers, the burn smudge on the countertop, then it settled on one of the dead men littered on the sidewalk. Aldrich apparently, hadn't bothered to clean them up.

Her eyes narrowed.

Johaan, already knowing what she was about to say, spoke up first, "criminals, I assure you".

"So you executed them?", she ground out rather angrily.

Johaan, growing rather heated now, spoke out to defend his actions. "There were four of them, too many to watch over without cording to bind them with. Some of them might have escaped and at any rate, I'm sure men of such disposition would not be missed". He had wanted to lash out further, harsher, but this he knew, would not be a proper way to treat a lady, no matter how much of a charlatan she was.

"You could have let the police handle them", she countered.

At this Johaan faltered for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time he had relied on the police for anything. He was a soldier, damn it, and he had almost completely forgotten about their existence. This of course, he would never admit to someone such as her, and so he plowed on relentlessly.

"They were waking already by the time we got here. The police would have arrived too late, and besides, if you let the enemy live, they'll only return to fight you once more. No", he asserted, "better to be rid of them when you have the chance". The last part, he had learned on the battlefield; the hard way. It had cost him the lives of some of his men, and he had never repeated that mistake again. Luckily, he seemed to assert his claim with enough conviction that the woman finally relented.

She stood, rubbing her brow rather irritably before she spoke once again. "The police will be here soon, just... go before they get here, Ozpin and I have some business here". And with that, she turned to leave.

It was only at this point that Johaan noticed a familiar red garbed girl trailing behind the woman. She gave them an odd look before the two disappeared around the corner.

"An interesting night", said Konrad, rather awkwardly.

"Indeed".

Blegh, you know the drill already, hate it flame it whatever.


	4. Semester start

A still day, like many of the other days since the men of Germany had arrived in this world. Still, in both climate and activity.

Of course, technically the day hadn't yet started. It was, as customary for Johaan, that queer time between night and day when he rose from his slumber to greet the shadowy procession which cast itself upon the land from the not yet risen sun. Of course, as the leader of the remnant expedition, this in turn had meant that with a great deal of grumbling and the bellowing of Wilhelm's voice for attention, the entirety of the expedition had been roused along with him.

As a consequence, this had left the expedition in somewhat of a conundrum. What to do with all the down time? There was, as many of them had just now begun to realize, no war to be fought. There were no streets or perimeters to be patrolled, no ditches to be dug, and because they currently resided in a school, no bars or taverns to be frequented.

There was however, one activity the men were intimately familiar with that seemed to always be an option. Military drills, and exercises of course, like a stormy rain cloud, seemed to be that ever looming splotch on the horizon that threatened to ruin the men's good mood, and to the officers, those rarest of rainbows that split the drizzle with a fat pot of gold at the end.

So it was, that the past few days had been spent in just this manner. A great deal of formational drills, combat exercises, and running. Lots and lots of running.

Johaan, observing from afar, noted with idle satisfaction that his own paratroopers seemed to be much more proficient in such activity then the men of the Wehrmacht, a distinct splotch of grey which seemed to lag slightly behind the proud line of brown and green as they made their daily rounds across the grounds of the academy. A somewhat childish outlook, he knew, but it filled him with a bit of pride every time he saw it. Palpable proof, that the fallschirmjäger, not the grenadier was the greatest soldier of the third reich.

He stood in somewhat dramatic fashion, one leg in front, raised with foot atop a small boulder, elbow coming to rest on the knee, and chin against fist as if contemplating the sights before him. He had, as his men knew well, somewhat of a penchant for the dramatics, although one would never tell through idle conversation or passing glance.

Somewhere behind him, a booted mans footsteps approached. Then the man came to a rest beside him.

Johaan had always known that Konrad was an intelligent man, since the moment they had met in Saint-lô. He had come to realize since then, that he had grown somewhat of an appreciation for the man in the past few days. The insight he offered was keen, as ever, and the conversation, intelligible. Lately, he had come to take the role of a courier of sorts between Ozpin and Johaan, as Johaan himself had soon grown somewhat tired of the task. First, there was that long elevator ride from the ground floor to the tallest reaches of the academy. Then, there were the questions. Oh, so many questions. Ozpin it seemed, had taken every chance meeting between himself and Johaan to satisfy his boundless curiosity about all things earth-wise. Always it was, England this, America that, or often times Germany. The first two, of course, he knew very little about, and the last, he wasn't particularly keen on making conversation about.

Delegation, he knew, was a beautiful thing.

"What news?", Johaan greeted. He hadn't bothered to look at the man he knew to be Konrad, in favor of maintaining his dramatic poise.

Konrad gave his report. "The students of the academy, it seems, are to arrive today."

"Indeed?". Johaan turned to look at him now, and gave him an interested look.

"Yes, the headmaster Ozpin has asked us to act as members of the faculty, to greet the students as they arrive and direct them to the auditorium."

"Very well, the men could use a change of pace, I suppose". He looked back to them now, in the distance, performing what appeared to be bayonet drills.

"There's more", continued Konrad. "About those men we encountered in the city."

"Ah, the ones we killed?"

"The very same. Ozpin has identified them by their manner of dress. A local gang under the command of a man named junior. A criminal, but operating within legal boundaries so far as the authorities are concerned. He runs a night club, supposedly as a front, where he hires out thugs and sells black market information."

"And how does that concern us?"

Konrad faltered for a second. "Evidently, it would be of great benefit to the region as a whole should a man such as junior, ah- what was the word?, disappear."

"Ozpin said this?"

"It was heavily implied".

Johaan nodded at this, he didn't particularly care for involving himself and his men in this worlds problems, but he had agreed to fight, and a skirmish with some low level thugs might do well to keep the men in suitable combat form.

"Preparations will have to be made then, and this night club, scouted."

Konrad looked somewhat surprised at this. "You intend to go through with it then?"

"Think of it as a training exercise". He stepped off the boulder then, his mind racking up suitable procedures. "That 38 we had abandoned in the forest, it will have to be retrieved I feel."

It was around midday when the shuttles appeared on the horizon. A fleet of them, glistening white in the sun, their exotic designs giving them the appearance of some giant insect horde. To the soldiers waiting on beacons plateau, it made for quite an impressive sight. Not the largest concentration of aircraft they had witnessed, not by a long shot, but the aircraft themselves were something new.

The soldiers, to their credit were quite an impressive sight themselves. Johaan, determined to represent the Luftwaffe in proper fashion (and the Wehrmacht he supposed), had called them to assembly an hour prior. Though not particularly numerous, their uniforms were straightened, crisp, and each man stood rigidly upright, side by side, identical to the next. They were striking in their uniformity, their symmetry, and their poses. Two lines were formed, with seven men lining each side of beacons long straight cobble stone pathway. Four paratroopers stood on either side, their rifles presented, bayonets out and gleaming, a row of cold steel. At the forefront stood Johaan and Wilhelm, each leading a procession, and at the rear, the men of the Wehrmacht, even less numerous but whose grey uniforms and beaked helmets, gave a distinctive appearance.

The fuhrer would've been proud at the sight. Here, in some unknown world, the people of Germany stood strong.

They awaited patiently, not a single twitch disrupted their form, then the first shuttle set down.

A voice rang out, Johaans. "You will conduct yourselves in a manner befitting soldiers of the reich", it said.

Then, a draw bridge of some sort was lowered, and out came, much to everyone's surprise (apart from the three who had seen vale), every color of the rainbow known to man, and beyond. Johaan muttered something indiscernible at this, he was still not used to the sight.

Aside from the colored heads, however, it was the manner of those who possessed them which struck the men as odd. They were not, the manner of people whom one would normally expect to be attending a military academy. These were young boys and even stranger, young girls who looked to be nothing more then simple school children. There was no uniformity about them, nothing that would set them apart from your average youngster. They poured out of the craft in an undisciplined mob, and upon seeing the academy, stood in a stupor. Still, it was, as Johaan had been telling himself with increasing frequency recently, none of his business. Why should he care if this land was training child soldiers? He had no ties to the people, or the government, he was a foreigner paid to do a job and that was it.

When the last shuttle had descended, and dropped off their charges, none had yet moved on from the initial staging area. They milled about restlessly, evidently confused as to what they should be doing, or daunted by the schools imposing heights and row of soldiers.

The soldiers held formation stoically, waiting for the students to make the first move, and for several minutes, nothing happened. Some students began to stray from the congregation just a bit, but then shied away after a feet. Johaan began to wonder if they would remain on the cliff side forever. It seemed that way, but then, there was the explosion. Not a terribly energetic explosion, but it kicked up a great deal of dust. Wilhelm sprang into action at this, evidently not too keen on having the students blow each other to bits... and the soldiers with them.

He barked out harshly, breaking from the formation and gesturing wildly. His thunderous voice sounded above the din, he was in his element now. Cries of, "FORM DOUBLE FILE, SILENCE IN THE RANKS!", were the prevailing sounds amidst the chaos.

It took some time, and a judicious application of "firm shoves" in the right direction, but eventually he had gotten the students into two orderly lines. They were flanked now, on either side by the German procession, and being led to Beacons front entrance. There were some curious murmurs amongst the students here and there, but for the most part, Wilhelm kept them silent. For the most part.

Unfortunately, the girl standing in line next to Johaan was not one of those cowed by Wilhelm's parade ground manner. A snowy white girl dressed in... all white who held herself with an air of authority (or superiority).

"Are you supposed to be hunters?". She put her hand on her hip saucily at this.

Johaan ignored her.

"Do you know who I am?".

Pretentious. Very pretentious, and not something Johaan wanted to deal with at the moment. Or ever.

He increased his pace. The rest of the procession scrambled to keep up.

"Excuse me?!", she called out, "I'm talking to you, you know!"

I am a soldier, Johaan recited in his head. I do not strike children. I am a soldier. I do not strike children.

Luckily, they made it without incident, but by that time, Johaans hand had begun to twitch with barely held constraint.

As per the headmasters instructions, they deposited the students in a grand auditorium where he, and his secretary awaited on a raised podium. He grew a slight smirk as he watched the orderly procession file in silently. Evidently, something about it amused him greatly.

That, however was the most that the soldiers would see of the assembly, as the second all students were accounted for, and formed into a neat semicircle around the podium, they took their silent leave.

It was to the dining hall that they had headed afterwards, with much relief. Indeed, the entire unit seemed to have had a great weight lifted off their shoulders as soon as they had cleared viewable distance from the children. Some men let out audible sighs of relief, and others gave themselves hearty pats on the back for a job well done. They had never had to deal with children before, and it was a strange experience to say the least.

"Be still damn you", hissed Johaan as he clutched his twitching hand.

Konrad, walking beside him, gave him an odd look. "Is something the matter?"

"Children. Annoy me".

"Ah".

As soon as the strange men had left, the students had once again broken into fervent murmurings.

Somewhere amidst the crowd, one particular red garbed girl whispered to her sister. "Yaaaang, I've seen those guys before".

The now named Yang, crossed her arms at that. "What where?"

"Back at that the dust shop when I was chasing Torchwick", she began to hiss frantically at this, "Yaaaang they killed people- people!"

To this, she received a hefty bear hug from Yang and a consoling grin, "awwww, it'll be fine sis. They work for Beacon!"

The girl gave an unconvinced frown at this.

Then a voice rang out through a microphone and the crowd grew silent.

"Ahem, I'll... keep this brief-"

It was quite late at night now. The men had spent the majority of the day in the dining hall doing whatever had come to their minds. This of course had ranged from everything between playing skat, a popular card game, and throwing knives. Spirits were rather high amongst the men, and this was due in no small part because today, they had received their first paycheck. It was quite the monumental affair, and also when Johaan had realized with a curse, that he had absolutely no idea how the monetary system in this world worked. For all he knew, Ozpin could've been paying them in pig shit. Still, it seemed a great deal of money to the men, and at the very least, they were receiving free accommodations and sustenance. Sustenance that was miles ahead of their usual field rations.

Currently, the men were sitting in three tables, as had become the custom in recent days. Between two of these tables, were divided eleven men. These men sat, gorging themselves on the schools decadent cafeteria food (it was steak today), making merry, and generally talking a lot of bullshit, as soldiers tended to do. To the side, Johaan was able to catch a snippet of Heinrich's conversation.

"... You remember that explosion today? Well get this, it was caused by a sneeze!". There was a general thrum of disbelief at this, but Heinrich insisted. "Aye, it was a strange girl in a red cape, I saw it clearly. She had been sniffing a load of powder when she sneezed and caught some girl in white in the blast!"

Girl in white? Johaan smiled in satisfaction at that.

The last table was shared by only three men. These men sat far more solemnly then their neighbors and held conversations that generally followed more important lines of dialogue. They were of course Wilhelm, Konrad, and Johaan himself.

"So", said Konrad, "I'd spoken to Ozpin earlier concerning the 38 and he has assured me that should it remain intact, his students, who are to be holding an initiation ceremony in the forest tomorrow will be able to retrieve it for us."

"Excellent", replied Johaan, "quite excellent. Much less trouble for us then."

"Of course, and he also wanted me to relay to you, that he might have found a solution to our munition problems". He paused then to take a sip of his milk. It was not his first choice of drink, but damnit, it was a school cafeteria and that was all they had offered today. "This Ozpin fellow seems a handy sort".

Johaan nodded at this, "indeed, he has taken care of our most present issues. Tomorrow, Wilhelm and I will go back to the city and pay a visit to this... juniors night club."

Wilhelm caught on immediately. "Mark it for weaknesses", he stated.

"Just so".

In this manner, they had conversed for sometime, going over the state of the unit, what they had learned about Remnant up till now, and other such matters of business until they were interrupted by the heavy foot falls of a rather large sounding man. Large, Johaan noted, not in height but of girth. The man wore a rather flamboyant outfit of burgundy and gold, a double breasted coat with gold lining, and had rather distinctive facial hair. It was, the largest mustache Johaan had ever seen on any man, and the way it appeared to be preened to perfection seemed to imply that the man held it within some godly reverence. He appeared an Englishman, but, like all the people of remnant, spoke in the Yankee fashion.

With some enthusiastic shaking of hands, and a slight wince upon shaking Wilhelm's, the man had introduced himself as one Peter Port, professor at Beacon, hunter extraordinaire, and all around pompous prick. Well, not the last part perhaps, but it was certainly the impression that he had given Johaan upon his telling of the sixth regaling story of self-heroism. This man, Johaan steadfastly believed, could give Heinrich a run for his money, and that was impressive.

"So", he said, with a jolly shake of the belly, "Ozpin tells me you're to be on the faculty this year".

"Indeed", confirmed Johaan.

"Funny though, he never actually told me what it is you're to be doing".

An obvious question, but not one Johaan was keen on answering if he could avoid it.

"If he has not seen fit to disclose that information then, neither will I".

Port seemed a bit dejected at this, but continued on anyways.

"So, you must be quite the accomplished hunters, I'm sure".

"In a manner". Hunters of men perhaps, thought Johaan, scoffing mentally.

There was an awkward silence at this. Clearly, Port had been expecting him to agree enthusiastically, and then regale him with exciting tales of his own outrageous exploits. This of course, was not to happen, and so with one last shake of the hand, he bid farewell to Johaan, and expressed his supreme condolences at having interrupted his dinner.

The three men stood staring as he left.

"Another-ah, extravagant character it seems", pointed out Konrad, in somewhat good humor.

"Indeed, they beset us from all sides like locusts. No end in sight". Johaan thought about this for a second. "The man would make a good circus act however".

"You think so?"

"Perhaps some hoops to jump through, then he can tell his stories at the end".

He received an amused grin at this.

Another short chapter but I'm really just ending these when I feel its a good place to stop, the next might be 10k words or 3 who knows? I don't fucking know but they'll never be shorter than 3.


	5. Blood drawn

Authors note: So, I literally had no idea what the hell I was thinking when I decided to put a bunch of old dudes in a world predominately centered on teenage girls. I mean, looking back on it now it just seems extraordinarily silly, but ah, what the heck. Anyways for those of you who still care, here's a shit ton of almost nothing but old men running their mouths and little to no action save for the end.

The great raucous commotion of hands colliding in applause swept like rolling thunder; brief in span, but energetic. Konrad, swept before the tide of festivities, found his own hands to be moving in a similar fashion. He grinned enthusiastically.

It was a grin, however, not of the adrenal sort by which his hands found motion but more of the "genuine" sort of which a chipper mood could put post haste- chipper being the mood in this particular instance, as Konrad had found relatively early on in life that he held some great affection for all facets of the humanities. Foreign and exotic cultures, he had learned, were of especial interested to him in particular, by which means the kingdom of vale fit quite perfectly.

"Exciting, no?", he said aloud.

From slightly to his rear, an annoyed voice happened to reach his ear; barely audible over the din, but he recognized it all the same. Anton, he knew, judging by the snark.

"Perhaps", Anton said, "it might be, if we could but understand what the man is saying. Klaus and I, you see, have the misfortune of being ill versed in our enemies tongue."

Konrad gave a nod in understanding at these unusual circumstances. A whole new world, and the populace had to be versed in english of all languages! Odd, exceedingly odd, he thought, but interesting all the same and not at all a trouble for himself.

With his index finger he directed Anton's gaze afore him, where a grey haired man stood giving some form of address, and four oddly dressed teenagers stood at attention.

"The headmaster is assigning teams to his students and appointing leadership positions", he explained.

"I withdraw my previous statement", said Anton, "and am now utterly disinterested."

Konrad only gave a mock sigh and a somewhat overly dramatic shake of the head. Then, his expression of wax and head tilted back, he offered his withering dissent.

"Anton, oh Anton, how uninteresting you are."

To which he received a snort in response. "School?, been there done that, never liked it. Leadership?", Anton continued, "do this do that- never held any love for it."

Konrad had withheld a witty remark in favor of heeding closely, Ozpins next few words, the phrases "above and beyond" as well as "secondary objective" having caught his attention.

Now on the stage in which they stood, a boy of orange hair and somewhat beefy physique stood with chest puffed out and a look of self admiration on his face. Cardin?, that was his name, though Konrad had fancied him a Butch before the announcement was made. No matter though, for his attention truly lay in the suspiciously familiarly shaped object sitting off to the side somewhat, its exact image obscured under heavy tarpaulin.

Ozpins words followed the usual procedure for the most part, aside from that extra bit of recognition; words of congratulations and such, and the christening of a team Cardinal, with its namesake Butch as its head. He then tilted his head slightly to Konrad and gave him a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

Konrad relayed the message to his fellows.

"That is our queue, I believe."

The three men of the Wehrmacht abandoned their positions behind Ozpin where they had awaited, and now encircled the shrouded object. Their was very little hubbub amongst the audience as they watched these strange grey clad men in action. Ozpin, Konrad knew, had at length ensured their presence would do little to disturb the students in their daily comings and goings and so they were now known to all of Beacon "officially", as members of the academies janitorial staff. Oh, how low they had fallen! Not that Konrad had cared in the slightest of course, as they were cleaner-men by title but so far had yet to spend even the slightest amount of time with mop and bucket. Luckily, as the academy had on hand already, "actual" janitors, that most likely wouldn't be changing in the foreseeable future. Most likely.

Reaching under the tarpaulin now, Konrad felt for a familiar hand hold, his fingers brushing against battered steel. Ah yes, he knew this feel, was familiar with every passing scratch and dent his hand revealed.

His fellows took up their practiced positions, each man knew their post well.

With one great heave in unison then, the thing was set off, through the rear exit and into a spacious service hallway, where the rambunctious cheer of assembly lay un-penetrating. Their, it was laid to rest ever so gently, Konrad grinning from ear to ear.

"My friends, we are complete".

With a dramatic flourish the tarpaulin was cast aside, laying bare one magnificent specimen of German construction.

Konrad, a look of reverence on his face, ran his hand scrutinizingly over the massive 38. Much like a person, the guns once smooth surface, now haggard and battle-worn told of many experiences. He and it had history, one might say.

"In a bit rougher shape then I remember but ah, still in one piece".

He cast glances about every which way, eyes scanning furtively for any traces of that all too familiar shock of blonde. Nothing.

Smokes were distributed then, and a light passed around. Damned woman didn't know how rare of a commodity these were when she crushed one under foot the first time. No smoking on school grounds? A load of rubbish.

Anton took in a long drag and let out an equally lengthy exhale. A sharp crack resounded from his lanky form. "My chiropractors going to have a field day with this one", he complained, "damn things breaking my back".

"And you wouldn't have it any other way", chided Konrad. A joke, but Anton's response surprised him greatly.

"Ill admit, I'd gotten rather used to lugging the damn thing around. Huh. Guess I never really realized how much I'd miss it until it was gone."

"It served us well".

"That it did", he agreed.

There was something of a curiosity to which men could grow such fond attachment to what amounted to nothing more then bits of metal really. Here was this machine, utilitarian to its cold metal core, and holding no more sentimental value then would a wrench, for they were both no more then tools when it came down to it, and yet, which was held with a greater amount of affection by hardened soldiers then many children would feel of their favorite toy.

Perhaps mused Konrad, when such a tool had lain remaining countless times, the only boundary between life and death, when nothing but the low thump of its 20mm rounds could repel the low swooping of fighter planes coming in low, and when its meager shield stood defiant alone against a withering hail of shrapnel in defense of its mortal operators, then perhaps, such deeply held affection was not so much a curiosity.

For the longest time the three men stood in silence, reveling in the wholeness of their squad, and enjoying the simple warmth and comfort of their smokes. The feeling was quite indescribable but if one were to, intoxicating might've been the word chosen.

"So, no special assignments today?", inquired Klaus at last, a somewhat shorter man then his compatriots, who's roundish face gave off a bit more of a friendly appearance then he was in reality. (Not that he wasn't an agreeable man generally, but his visage often times screamed of downright jolly.)

"None", replied Konrad, "save for this one, beyond which lies my discretion."

"We are to be taking orders from you again?"

His confirmation was given in form of a nod. "But for however long I know not", he paused for a second, a knowing smile had at some point grown on his face, "and of what relevance is that? Don't tell me- you miss me already."

Anton let out a derisive snort. "Don't flatter yourself man, the lesser of two evils surely but of no great improvement overall".

A low jab, and Konrad might've been offended by it too had he been a man of thinner skin and fortunate enough to have never called Anton friend. Unfortunately, he had and still did. Friendships, he knew, were all niceties at first- what came with timidity and the testing of waters but once rooted firmly, rarely showed as much restraint.

"Damn fly boys ordering us around, and that leader of theirs, a grade-A cunt if i ever saw one"- at this point Anton's rambling had devolved into a low grumpy grumble, "him and that dog of his."

"Wilhelm?", Konrad raised a brow.

"Aye, thats the one, always running us ragged on drills, and giving me that look when I slip up like he's about to maul me or something."

It was at this moment which Klaus decided to interject. "He hates you". A simple statement, but judging by the look on Anton's face, one which had its merits.

"Gee thanks". Anton flicked some ash off the tip of his cigarette, his expression solemn, no doubt in lament of his existence or something. "At any rate, be glad you're not running the drills yourself."

"It is fortunate for me", Konrad teased, "my superior intellect was deemed too valuable to be wasted on such plebeian affairs as your own."

Anton leaned back against a wall, eyes closed as if in contemplation except Konrad knew intelligent thought of any sort was often times beyond him. "Theres the Konrad we know; always going on about his intellect and what not but lacking in real world experience unlike myself".

"Ah yes, it truly shows, especially when you're identifying gorillas and such. Like a true zoologist!".

The faintest glimmer of red appeared on Anton's cheeks then, his lips curled in annoyance. "They were gorillas", he asserted.

"On the contrary. The man had called them Grimm."

"A part of their vernacular then!", he yelled, arms thrown out wide in exasperation. "And in any case, this whole situation seems a right sham to me."

"This situation?"

"The entirety of it my friend. This whole new world business- I hold no trust for the people here and neither should you."

Konrad rolled his eyes. "As you said, you are ill versed in their tongue."

"Discrepancies betwixt languages not withstanding, theres something foul amidst the populace. Klaus and I are both in accordance with this matter". He looked expectingly to the third man now.

"They are a decidedly... odd bunch", he consented.

Konrad gave both men a look of appraisal. "I too have seen many peculiarities amongst them, but nothing to warrant undue caution. Physical deviations aside they're of no difference to any of us."

"As you say", Anton relented, in as unconvinced a voice as Konrad had ever heard. "I merely desire to leave this place as swiftly as possible."

"And return to France?"

"Return to our home", he corrected. "I have... obligations there".

"As do we all, but I fear that is quite impossible at the moment. So, steel yourselves my friends, we may be in it for the long haul."

"Wonderful".

Konrad took up his position by the gun again, his cigarette spent. The two men seeing this, did the same.

"Push", he commanded, and with that the gun was set in motion once again.

XxXsceneXxX

"Do you know", hissed Wilhelm, his baritone voice exceedingly low and edgy, "how it is we appear- what it is we look like?"

Decidedly queer, Johaan was tempted to say. Of course, that wouldn't have helped matters in the slightest but damn did they look strange.

Wilhelm put one hand to his face, his other clutching an exceedingly diminutive cocktail glass; its delicate form sitting precariously between two comparatively massive fingers, the only digits which would fit around its slender neck. From the top sprouted a jaunty little umbrella. "I will say no more of it- and we", he put especial emphasis on the we, "will never speak of this again".

Johaan might've guffawed at the awkwardness of it all had he not been in the exact same position.

Ever so slowly he tipped his own glass back. The rim of it grazed his lips ever so gently as if he were handling a scalding vat; the most minute trace of whatever concoction lay inside passing over his tongue as he did so.

He almost choked.

It was fruity. And singularly so, but really what more could he have expected from a drink named strawberry sunrise? Not much he knew, but he had never imagined it could be this bad. He drew one sleeved arm across his mouth, the lifting of which revealed a suspicious dark smear which hadn't been there before. "Ahem, yes. This shall remain between us only. If the others were to discover", he began, "if they were to find out- the ramifications...", he shook his head; the ramifications being he would never hear the end of it. Would you like a purse with that drink? they would say. He could imagine it already: Heinrich's irksome little shit of a face- that obnoxious smile, any form of self dignity lost forever. Oh, what he would do for a good German beer right about now! Of course, he was not a drunkard by any means, but even he had his standards.

"To our purpose then", he managed to grit out, whilst doing his utmost to ignore the aftertaste, and the fact that he was a grown man clutching an exceedingly feminine beverage. He swiveled around on his bar stool, eyes coming to rest on the scene behind him.

So this was juniors club. The main body of it consisted of a great open floor ball room of sorts, but more of the degenerate sort so to speak. It was of a strict color scheme, a blinding white predominately- blinding as in the literal sense, with black as well, and a smattering of red here and there which might've done well in contrast if it was not so few and far between. Only petals drifting and those on, oddly enough, indoor trees, hinted of crimson; a "might've been" nice touch if the sight of them had not been drowned out every other second by those damnable spotlights. These were, in accordance with the color scheme, a glaringly bright white and kept constantly on a swivel so as to be shone in the faces of anyone no matter where in the establishment they may have been. Oh joy! Which masterful architect had designed this den of iniquity?, he wondered. Whoever it was, must have held a deep disdain for his sanity.

Beyond the aesthetics of course, there was also the dissonance; an exotic upbeat tempo blaring through some hidden intercom at all times who's harsh pulsing beats set his head a-rattling. It was much like artillery fire in that way, although this one was far more obnoxious. A low growl of annoyance tore free from his throat. All these distractions were getting in the way of the underlying goal, he knew, but luckily Wilhelm had no such troubles.

"Two entrances, two exits", he observed astutely, "and no windows". That was a crucial point.

"Yes, I see them, the main entrance and the rear exit, most likely for emergencies and what not". Johaan couldn't withhold a small smirk. This would likely be much easier then he had previously anticipated- not that he had been expecting any great endeavor at any rate, but at the very least some great rat chase, similar to which was the rooting out of insurgents within occupied territory. They, he had come to find, always seemed to have some other obscure crevice or another to which they could steal away silently whenever their former had been raided.

Johaan put a hand to his chin intuitively. "And I suspect the entirety of their operation is based in this single facility". It wasn't a certainty of course, but the sheer concentration of those familiar black and red clad men, milling about like cockroaches, spoke of no other possibilities. "So, here is what it comes down to. We have 14 men in total; they- countless dozens no doubt, but poorly armed, untrained and most importantly, with only two exits to sally out of at any given time". He stood now, and began to pace in that familiar fashion of his. "All this is well and good", he continued, more to himself then anything, "we have two designated choke points for them to funnel through, but-", he whirled around to face Wilhelm suddenly at this, who with stoic look, and gay drink in hand looked on impassively, "-how do we get the rats out of hiding?"

"We burn them out", Wilhelm obliged. Such was a basic tactic for clearing out entrenchments and fortified structures.

"Quite so- or perhaps not", Johaan corrected. "I have no intention of letting them scurry about the place- better for them to be consumed in the fire, but if they do, I believe eleven men at the main entrance, and three at the rear should suffice- with our flak cannon of course, provided its been recovered."

Wilhelm made a slight utterance; some deep rumbling sound which to any other man might've been meaningless but to Johaan spoke volumes.

"Voice your concerns man."

There was a rustling of cloth as Wilhelm sank back in his barstool, elbows coming to rest on the countertop behind him, both of which appeared exceedingly small in comparison. "We are presented with an overly large rat hole", he said, sharp gaze traveling over the entirety of the establishment. "Most of which is made of glass".

"Ah", Johaan had been anticipating this, "but no structure is immune to fire. You know of the crystal palace? A large building, made of glass as well, and consumed by what had begun as a small office fire only 8 years ago. There was a great commotion over it I believe", and a moment of silence as Johaan Iifted his small glass to his lips unconsciously, unable to catch himself until it was too late. Needless to say, a quite undignified sputter resulted.

"That said", he continued after a moment, "I am not without my fair share of methods. Now, a structure such as this must have some form of forced ventilation, yes? Something to exchange its stale air with the fresh."

"I believe it so", Wilhelm replied, though he was unsure of where his superior was going with this particular query. Evidently, he wouldn't be finding out anytime soon, either. Cryptic was the word, damn cryptic.

"We have our mission", affirmed Johaan, "now we wait for the proper circumstance."

"Circumstance?"

"Need I say it aloud for you? This operation isn't in the strictness of sense legal, you know. Unfortunate as it may be", and he truly meant this, "there is no Germany here to give endorsement of our operations."

"Yes", agreed Wilhelm, "merely a foreigner who sees fit to have us do his dirty work. Are we to be his lapdogs now?"

Johaan let loose a tired sigh. The conversation now, was taking an all too familiar turn. "I have no desire to revive this particular quarrel", but of course, he did so anyways. "You had, I remember well, declared to me your acknowledgment of the necessity of it all. Now what is the problem man? Would you continue to pester me over such things which I hold no control over?". His voice had risen to an uncomfortable volume at this point, drawing curious eyes from every which way, no doubt wondering what unintelligible gibberish this man was spouting in a drunken stupor. "Should I, as you seem to expect from me, simply open up some portal or dimensional vortex and have it whisk us away, reason intact, from this obscure corner of the world back to the loving embrace of our esteemed Germany? The likes of which, may I remind you, not a single one of us has been able to make ass or heads of on any map presented to us thus far! I am not a magician, as far as I know at any rate, and as such I assure you such miraculous works are altogether beyond me, so let this be the end of it. I hold no more love for it then do you, but have instead, the fundamental understanding that this measure is in fact a necessity; is that too great a concept for you to wrap your mind around?, did the words simply fall idly out your mouth when you had professed your understanding of the situation? Or perhaps you had been talking out of your ass instead?". A stunning silence ensued, and presently, activity seemed to resume around them. Johaan seemed to sag a bit, and Wilhelm, his expression unreadable but quite stoic still, looked onwards unflinchingly but said nothing.

"I was made squad leader- not you. Perhaps there is a reason for that."

Briefly, Johaan had considered the necessity of that last statement, but then his considerations fell upon the man himself, specifically, at which point he had become so damned- ...so damned vocal, about everything. He had made many a controversial decision before, but then, Wilhelm, seemed to take it all in stride, offering no words of encouragement but neither questioning remark nor dissent traveled openly.

"We're leaving", he announced shortly.

Both men downed their drinks at this, albeit with grimaces abound, and a wad of paper currency- Lien Johaan had been told it was called, was left for the bar keep. Summarily, they left, with quite the awkward silence between them.

XxXsceneXxX

That night, Johaan had found himself, like on many other occasions but with increasing frequency lately, restless as no other.

Idly he lay, legs dangling precariously from his too-small mattress, and eyes wide open but affixed on the nothingness that lay above him.

At times he had found that, with the closing of eyes prematurely, came the subtle bubbling of stray thoughts to the surface, of which activity had before kept submerged in whatever dark recesses they had lain in, in his mind. These, he knew well, varied widely in weight (figuratively speaking of course) from the lightest of the light to an overbearing ton and a half. Lightest of these were those most commonly appearing faces of ghastly white- all of which, had once been mellow and full of life, and over half of which had had that life removed by Johaan himself, which over the course of his career had amounted to quite a few faces. These always flitted transiently by; passing curiosities for the most part which he had never payed much consideration to, but when he did, had idly wondered whether such things as guilt were beyond such a man as him, or that a man such as him were beyond such a thing as guilt. Either way, he couldn't have given less of a damn.

No, it was always the future which had bothered Johaan, never the past. Specifically, the gnawing uncertainty of it all and the realization that his actions might have a heavy consequence on those he commanded, had always weighed prevailingly on him. Such was the curse of leadership, he thought, to be looked on and condemned by those beneath them for all the troubles of the world, even those which one might have no real control over. In truth, the lives of his men weighed only half as heavy as his own self image, but for better or for worse, the two seemed tethered inexplicably together. His own destiny, which had seemed so startlingly simple before, now lay in bleaker prospects. He would've fought on, he knew, and then been killed in action in some foreign field or another, perhaps earning a medal or two in the process, and by no means would he ever return to any form of civilian life. (He was especially adamant on that last part). This had been his only and greatest aspiration. But now what? Briefly he considered the outrageous possibility that he could somehow be satisfied with the prospect of dying in this bizarre loony bin of a world known as remnant, at the hands of some two-bit gangsters or rabid ape like creatures. Briefly and outrageous being the key words, for he disposed of that thought immediately, and thereupon brought his attention to a noise from his left, where his eyes met Wilhelms familiar form slouched against the back wall of the dormitory- facing the door of course, and in full gear with side arm drawn and trained rigidly on it. That was how he slept, as per the custom, except he wasn't asleep evidently, for the sound had been his voice.

"I know that look", he rumbled, which was exceedingly odd to Johaan, for both his eyes remained closed.

Johaan sat up, giving his full attention.

He said no more beyond this, but his silence, unique amongst men, seemed to have an uncanny ability to convey just as much meaning.

"I know what it is you must think of me", Johaan said at last, but got no further before Wilhelm interjected.

"As you said before, it matters not what I think. You are the squad leader, I am not."

"Well", continued Johaan, "perhaps you were right, perhaps I should have done things differently-"

"And perhaps", interjected Wilhelm again, "I have been particularly inequitable in my judgment as of late". He waved a hand at this, as if by the action, hoping to clear away some misconception. "Only know that I hold a fair amount of confidence in your station. You are, as leaders go, certainly not the worst".

A strange silence predominated, as Johaan was left in deliberation. Perhaps, he mused, it was not the most gratifying of compliments, but then, an outright compliment of any sort from the austere man was an exceedingly rare happenstance in the most generous of terms. He took a bold risk. "Thank you friend". And therein lay the summit of their intimacy, no higher peaks would be reached, no further boundaries crossed.

Wilhelm cracked one eye open. "Are we friends now, Johaan?". Part curiosity, but mostly amusement laced his voice.

"I should like to think so."

An uproarious commotion was at this point heard from the room adjacent to them. Johaan cursed, he should've taken the middle room, he knew, but at the time, no others had been inhabiting the dormitories.

Wilhelm stood. "Then as your friend, know that I hold a severe disinclination for rabble late at night."

"As do I".

"Then we are in agreement", and with that he left, no doubt to give a lashing of his tongue and to impose a strict curfew on some unsuspecting children.

Fortunately, Johaan had at that point lain down once again, and this time he fell into a deep slumber which, while pleasant during its duration... had a very short duration.

The following morning was, of course, a dry affair, and in keeping with the expeditions rigid schedule, began with the bellowing of Wilhelm's voice to attention, and then a head count once the men were sorted and in proper form.

Once all fourteen of them were well accounted for, a double file line would be formed and marched tidily down to Beacons dining hall, with oddly enough, Konrad at the head for they had learned long ago that if they were to catch their early repast they would absolutely, by no means, ever let Johaan lead. This of course meant that they made the trip with little trouble.

The dining hall itself, now packed to the brim with the students of Beacon academy, had at this point lost much of its former monastic splendor. This was in part due to several reasons, the first of which of course, was the wild commotion. This was the first thing to greet the men as they closed within earshot of the place. The second reason was the occupants, and as some of the men had unashamedly pointed out, their not so decent manner of dress, particularly the skirts. Idly, Johaan had wondered if this was the product of some lewd characteristic the headmaster Ozpin had been quite secretive about during their discourse with each other, or if it was simply due to the fashion trend in these parts. The third and final reason was the succulent wafting smell of something that was definitely not, the much feared and infamous "iron ration". This, being the most agreeable with, was nevertheless, no less detrimental to the halls once numinous tenor.

Of course, this was of no especial concern to Anton whom, with mouth watering, found he could no longer abide by the expeditions strict disciplinary manner in the face of glorious nourishment and summarily broke ranks. This of course, resulting in the inevitable collapse of the entire formation as every man scrambled for the serving line, creating a scene that shared no small amount of similarities to the sight of a pack of mad dogs scrambling for a little bit of meat or bone.

And that one mad dog to take home the prize, Anton had decided, would be him-or rather would have been him, had his coat not been entangled in something odd. A hand, he noticed, upon turning to the face it, belonging to some queer creature. A girl?, one with long brown hair and oddly enough, what he safely assumed to be a pair of rabbit ears sprouting from some head band or hat, not that he paid much attention anyways.

The girl looked up at him from her seated position, then without further ado, promptly spouted some bizarre gibberish at him. Damn. Anton turned his head frantically. Where the hell was Konrad when you needed him? Racing away off into the distance to get a free meal, that's where, that rat bastard.

Despite his lack of proper communication abilities, it was not, as Anton had been anticipating, greatly difficult to grasp the basic premise of the situation. The girl as it turned out, and upon closer inspection, had appeared to, judging by the general sogginess of her attire, caused some great spillage of which it was supposedly Anton's job as a "janitor" to aid in the cleansing of. Unluckily for her, Anton wasn't actually a janitor.

At this point, any onlookers who knew of that unfortunate circumstance might have asked themselves, perhaps, if it would have killed the man to help the poor girl, and to this, anyone who knew Anton personally would have responded with a resounding and definite yes. Because it was Anton. Lazy, untrusting, and generally hostile to foreigners of any sort, but at the very least, not without a modicum of tact.

Anton, his face screwing up in concentration now, was trying his hardest to recall what his leader (not the Luftwaffe one), had jokingly referred to as "the Konrad approved response for when anyone un-knowledgable of the German language decided they wanted to spark conversation with someone as ugly as Anton". Ah! his face had lit up now, for he remembered it went something like: "Fuck you, asshole", which of course he had said out loud before the phrase could disappear into obscurity again. He of course had no inkling whatsoever of its exact meaning, but had assumed it to mean something like: I don't speak your language, in English.

Fortunately for him, it seemed to work, for the next second he could feel the grip slacken. Glorious freedom! Some ways away, he spied Konrad who had left a spot open for him in line, so with something of an overly smug look on his face he made way with a confident gait, utterly unaware of the boisterous laughter that had ensued promptly thereafter from a vaguely familiar orange headed butch, as well as the looks of utter vehemence that were shot his way from others.

Anton, squeezing his way into the serving line rather unceremoniously behind Konrad (and ignoring the shouts of protest and helmets being thrown his way while he was at it) noted with some curiosity that Konrad had grown a rather wide smirk.

"Chatting up the locals I see."

"Aye and they seem to have taken to me quite well". Anton's smug grin grew- if it were possible, even more smug. "Perhaps there's no more to this whole English business then I had thought".

"Truly", Konrad said, "you do it like a master."

XxXsceneXxX

For an apparent master of the English language, Anton might've thought that he would be below such duties as taking inventory, but then again, as he had firmly asserted countless times, leadership tended to overlook talent where they could see it.

So it was, that he had spent almost the entirety of the morning wandering blindly through some obscure corridors and hallways, all of which had begun to look startlingly similar after a while, in his quest for the janitorial closet where, for some inexplicable reason, they had stowed away their flak gun and all of its ammunition. Anton might not have been the brightest of men (despite what he thought of himself), but even he could see a downright god awful idea for what it was. At the very least, he thought, we could have thrown a tarp over it or something, but unfortunately they hadn't. Boy, was the janitor in for a surprise the next time he visited, especially so since they had been forced to "displace" about a quarter of the rooms janitorial stock in the process of parking their excessively large gun.

Presently, he continued searching, turned a corner, and was met with, what a surprise!, another obscure hallway, though at the very least this one was occupied.

The occupant, as far as Anton could see, was a student, judging by the height and uniform, but nothing else for he/she/it had a face obscured completely under a pitch black hood of some sort, and was adorned in equally black and baggy clothing.

Now, in any other circumstance, Anton, might have found this to be more then a little peculiar, however, given the forms of dress that he had seen already on the people of this land, he honestly couldn't have been surprised in the slightest by this new one.

"Hello", he greeted, but then cursed as he remembered that apparently, nobody in this backwater land spoke an ounce of German. Still, he tried. "Do you know the way to the janitor's closet?". No answer, the person merely stood silently, watching him, or not- he couldn't really tell.

"Me. Janitor", he said again slowly, with one finger pointing to himself.

No response? Damn. He sighed wearily and would've moved on at that point had it not been for the swift punch colliding with his chest and knocking him flat on his back, the force of it combined with the suddenness, giving it a similar effect to having been run over by a freight train. Needless to say, he was quite winded by it, but managed to force himself to his feet all the same.

His response of course, was prompt and composed of his own fist, swung wildly in a right hook, packaged stamped and delivered, but unfortunately rejected at the door as his aggressor merely deflected it off to the side expertly, whereupon he/she/it spun around in a devastating round house kick to his face which he- with equal expertise, took full on.

Again, he was knocked flat on his back, although this time had accumulated much greater air time, and if the cracking or the pain was of any indication, perhaps a broken rib or two. Plus, his jaw hurt like hell. Shit, he probably wouldn't be standing after that one, and he had no intentions of doing so either. Idly, he peered out of the narrow slits in his almost fully lidded eyes as, out of nowhere, or perhaps from some side passage, three more similarly clad perpetrators emerged, these ones gripping clubs of some sort.

Evidently, they held no desire to outrightly kill Anton, for if they did, they might've thought to bring more potent weapons. Unfortunately for them, and of no significance to Anton, he himself held no such reservations.

When the closest one approached he/she/it did so without heed to caution, perhaps believing their victim to be unconscious, as he had been laying quite still for a while, or perhaps simply unimpressed by his combat abilities.

Either way, it worked to Anton's advantage. His adversary closed to within arms reach now, so close he could tell, it was definitely male. Then, suddenly he sprang, like a python his left arm shooting out to grasp the hand with the club, then yanking downwards. His right, had been all the while, occupied with wrenching free from his boot a well concealed knife which once free, was sent upwards; it's six inch blade directed under the ribs in a savage thrust. There, it met some curious resistance as though intercepted by a brick wall, but then broke through, piercing cloth then flesh.

Their was a strangled yell, to which Anton gave a wolfish and satisfied snarl, but then a shoed foot descended and only darkness remained.


End file.
